The Story of a Confederate Boy in the Civil War

by David E. Johnston

I joined my command, then at Taylorsville, Virginia, whither it had been sent to rendezvous and recruit, at the same time guarding the bridges over the North and South Anna rivers. Our long stay at Taylorsville during the months of November and December, 1863, and for part of January, 1864, gave ample opportunity to discuss the serious aspect of affairs. We had received a stunning blow at Gettysburg, evidenced by the absence forever of brave men whose places could not be supplied. Naturally the query was often made, how long will the war last? When will it end? What are our prospects for success? Will it continue until the last man falls? What do the Northern people mean? Is it their intention to subjugate the states, and overthrow the citadel of liberty itself? They call us rebels—can a sovereign be a rebel? We had been taught that the states were sovereign and that their governments were instituted to secure certain inalienable rights, with which their Creator had endowed them—among these, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and that the security of all these resided with the states and the people thereof, and not with their Federal agent. These and many other matters were discussed, and the general conclusion arrived at was: we will have to fight it out.

In the last days of November, the Federal army, under General Meade, crossed the Rapidan, making a feint as if to attack the Army of Northern Virginia, but instead re-crossed the river, seeming to have crossed for no other purpose than to cross back again. We had orders to be ready to go to General Lee's aid.

While at Taylorsville the Rev. Dr. Blackwell, who had resided in the cities of Norfolk and Portsmouth, Virginia, during General Butler's reign of terror therein, delivered to our brigade a lecture on Butler, his troops, and the noble women of those cities. After describing the insults of the Federal soldiery, and the sacrifices and heroic conduct of the women, he pronounced upon them an eulogy, a part only of which is recalled, and is now here reproduced; he began by saying:

"Woman is lovely, but not a goddess. We call her angel, but she has no wings to soar quite beyond the bounds of terrene. She is the loveliest form of beauty known to earth, and presents the purest type of that sweet companionship that awaits us in the bright land of the hereafter; but still she is flesh and blood, loves to steal from the bowers of her paradise and dwell with men, mingle in the common concerns and partake of the common infirmities of the human race. As the graceful vine entwines itself around the sturdy oak when riven by the lightnings of Heaven, so she, though the feebler, gentler sex, is the prop upon which the sterner sex in the midst of revolution often leans for repose. * * * And when the history of this revolution is fully written, these noble women will stand in the front ranks of that illustrious galaxy of Southern females whose heroic acts and beauteous deeds have illuminated our Heavens, and thrown a halo of fadeless glory around the noble women of Norfolk and Portsmouth."

Our General Pickett was married, as I now recall, in September, 1863, in Petersburg, Virginia, to Miss Corbell, a lovely, highly cultivated Virginia woman who occasionally rode with the General through our camps, attending the division review. Later, when Baby George arrived, he was exhibited in the camps, the soldiers eagerly fondling him; nor was his linen as spotless or his humor as sweet when handed back to his mother or nurse as when the boys received him.

The General and boy have both passed to the Great Beyond, but the lovely wife and mother still lives to brighten the memories of husband and son, the noble dead of the division, and to cheer the hearts of the brave men who counted it the honor of their lives to have marched with the noble Pickett, made famous for all time to come by his charge at Gettysburg, now celebrated in song and literature.

Our rations were not abundant while at Taylorsville; one pint of unsieved meal and a quarter of a pound of bacon per day. Coffee was made of parched wheat rye, and sometimes of rice when we had it. Occasionally the men managed to get turnips or potatoes, of which they made fairly good soup. There was so little of the bacon that we could not afford to fry it, so we generally ate it raw, with an ash or Johnny cake; we had but few cooking utensils, and had need of few.

Religious services were held when possible; the weather for the most part was too inclement to have open air services, and we had no church. Such services as were had were generally in the messes, or conducted in the quarters of J. Tyler Frazier, to which all were invited.

Being under orders to march, our preparations therefor completed, we took up the movement January 20, going through Richmond and Petersburg, where we were put aboard cars and transported to Goldsboro, N.C., remaining there a few days. Leaving camp at Goldsboro January 29, we proceeded to Kinston, on the Neuse River, thence through the swamps and bogs, crossing the Trent River to the vicinity of Newbern, N.C., where we made some captures of prisoners and stores, and blew up a Federal gunboat lying in the river, under the forts, which was accomplished by Colonel Wood, with his marines. A section of 3d New York artillery—two guns—was captured, together with several hundred prisoners, among them 35 or more of the 2d Loyal North Carolina regiment, who had been soldiers in our army, deserted, and joined the enemy. These men were recognized and sent back under guard to Kinston.

Our people found Newbern better prepared for defense than was anticipated, and after some strong reconnaissances on all the roads, gathering up all the supplies within reach that could be transported, at dark, February 3, we silently folded our tents and stole away, floundering all night along through the swamps and mud, crossing the Trent a little after dawn. During the night we passed through extensive turpentine orchards, which the men set fire to, and by the light of which many sloughs were avoided. Our movement continued until Kinston was reached, where we rested a few days.